108. Too Much

I get back home. I always do. Somehow I just really can’t seem to get far enough away from the cabin or the town.

It’s afternoon, and I’m ready to sleep for twenty hours. Yet something is waiting for me in the driveway. It’s not Mom’s car. Of course not.

I pull up and see the silver-and-black motorcycle that was in the shed at the Crag’s Inn.

Instantly I expect that Jared is somewhere around. He’s dropping by to rub it in my face. Or to bring me to the cops after what I did to the pastor.

For a moment I think about taking the bike and riding away. But I’m exhausted and don’t have the energy to get on it. I really just don’t care.

There’s a white envelope taped to the seat. I see my name on it.

I’m not going to like this.

I hold the card in my hands.

Just get rid of it, Chris. Even if it has your name on it. This isn’t a birthday card.

The wind rustles. I wonder if school missed me today. Or if Mom did. Or if anybody really did.

I tear open the envelope and see the folded card inside. It’s special stationary that has a picture of the Crag’s Inn on it.

Iris …

I swallow. How did it get here, and why, and who—

Add them to the collection. The collection of HUH? stories that I’m starting to own.

I open the note.

Dear Chris,

The bike belonged to your uncle and now belongs to you. Keep it and learn to ride it. Just be careful when you do.

You know more than you think you do. You understand more than you believe you do. But you are at a critical juncture and you have to make a choice.

Just remember that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Remember those words even if you do not believe them.

Yes, it is dark.

But the Lord is a lamp.

And He can turn the darkness into light.

Iris

I fold up the letter and look around.

The breeze still blows.

I wonder why. Why me. Why now. Why.

I take the steps up to the cabin.

I don’t feel anything.

I’m too tired to feel. Too bewildered to understand.

It’s all just a bit too much.